First Embrace
by HollywoodSabre
Summary: Max, having acquired total power over Santa Carla, begins to spread his legacy. His first Embrace is David, an unknown orphan on the young city streets. I HAVE RETURNED! Ch. 10 is UP.
1. Introduction

_-Disclaimer_: Neither the characters nor original storyline is my property. Those are all copyright whoever created them. Some ideas are loosely based upon the themes in Vampire: The Masquerade.

-I suggest you watch the movie (I assume you have anyway!)

Maximillion breathed in deeply the sweet evening air as he stood at the front door of his new property on the boardwalk. Such a moment was taken rarely anymore, ever since he lost the need for his lungs. This was a time for celebration. The entire beachfront town of Santa Carla was his for the picking, as soon as he set up a decent daytime lifestyle.

After the last earthquake the remaining vampires of Santa Carla had left for more stable grounds, where their homes would be more secure than the shaky instability of the California coast. The hotel incident from the previous month had killed enough of their Kind. But Maximillion stayed behind, positive that he could survive what he mused was Nature's goal to kill what should already be dead.

_This_, he thought with another deep, empty breath, _is all mine_. A dream-come-true, he was equipped with a safe haven and a disguise for the living. He walked back into his store and placed a sign in the window: **Help Wanted**. If he wanted to keep this up during the day, he needed help. A bookstore that only opened at dusk was more than suspicious. He never realized before now just how much his sire did for him. If his heart could still beat, its pace would have quickened slightly. In an instant of panic, questions began racing through his mind: _Why didn't I go with everyone else? What the hell was I thinking?_ Fortunately the thoughts came and went quickly, and he composed himself to his usual laid back cool.

The shop was going to need work. It was in a prime location, but had not been used since it went out of business shortly after the earthquake. _No wonder I got such a good deal_, he thought. The place was a mess. The previous owners took their goods and left. Tables were upturned, shelves were broken, and back in the corner were pieces of what Max assumed to be a bust of Aristotle. With one last glance outside into the growing darkness of night, he set to work cleaning up his future business.

-Author's Note: This is just the introductory chapter. The next one will have more plot and characters. Please tell me what you think; I'm eager to hear what you have to say!


	2. He is Lost

Two nights had passed of cleaning, rearranging, and reorganizing the space to transform it into a shining new bookstore. On the third evening a young man, just beyond boyhood, knocked on the door.

"We're closed!" Max shouted through the door. The young man pointed at the sign in the window, then at himself. Max took a second look at him. No older than sixteen, he looked malnourished and tired. His clothes were tattered, and under a slight layer of dirt lay a most striking shade of blonde hair, shoulder length and tied into a tail with a scrap of cloth. He considered the lad for a moment before heading toward the door.

"I'll work for anything," the lad said. He looked like he meant it, even if "anything" meant a piece of bread and some fresh water to clean his face. Max hesitated before finally opening the door and gesturing him inside and asking his name.

The lad, eager at a chance to get away from the nighttime breeze of the nearby water, gave a sharp but grateful nod and quickly walked inside. "Thank you," he said; relief was tinting his voice. "My name is David. I'm sorry for the lateness of my visit but I saw the sign in your window and didn't want to chance waiting until tomorrow." He looked down at his feet as he talked, Max noticed, but there was confidence in his voice. "I work hard at whatever task you assign me. I've experience in many things and--"

"Easy, easy, calm down," Max interjected quietly. "You look famished. Have a seat at that table. I'll be right back." He disappeared behind a stack of books and into a back room, leaving David with the rows of half-filled shelves and faint smell of musty pages. He looked like a child waiting for his seat at the dentist. Unsure how to stand, what to look at, how to act… He slowly made his way over to the table and sat down, careful not to brush up against the shelf nearest him. What was really only two minutes seemed like thirty to him. Searching for something to attack his interests, he started scanning the titles of nearby books. _The Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe_; he had heard some of this as a child at the orphanage. The name sounded familiar at least… Something about a raven. He scanned the next two: _The Odyssey_ and _The Origin of the Species_. The former also sounded familiar, and the latter he thought sounded like a textbook. _Not that any of these matter_, he thought. _I'll be happy if I can just clean the floors in this place_.

At that moment, Max returned from behind the book stacks with a small plate and steaming mug. "You look like you haven't eaten in two days. Here, just don't eat it too quickly." David's face lit up like the morning sun, and he quickly proceeded to burn his tongue on the hot mug of tea.

Max let him take a few bites, then asked "So, where do you hail from?"

David attempted an answer, then thought better of it and decided to swallow his mouthful first. "The boardwalk," he gulped out. "Fairchild Hostel originally, but I left that place a few years ago."

"The orphanage?" Max replied. "My dear boy, you mean you have no family?"

"Hey look, I don't need a family," he snapped out before he realized his tone. He sat a bit straighter then, eyes down, and said, "I mean... I'm doing all right on my own. It just gets a bit rough sometimes, you know? Anyway, I do what I can to keep myself alive." He gestured a thank you with the bit of sandwich he held in his hand, followed by taking a hearty mouthful and lapsing into silence.

Max considered the lad sitting at the table. David, as it seemed, had been alone for quite a long time. No parents, no mentor, no one to teach him how to survive. All he had for friends were his fellow orphans and the caretakers at Fairchild.

"I have an offer for you," said Max. This must have caught David's attention. He paused mid-chew and looked directly into Max's eyes. Hopeful determination shined in his face as he waited for Max to say what he was praying for. "I need someone to work my shop during the day. I'm more of a night owl myself, for keeping track of the inventory and demand." David's eyes brightened. "I am willing to hand you this responsibility, but be warned. If I find anything missing or damaged in the store, I will come to you first."

David, half taken by shock, choked on the half-chewed bit of sandwich as he hastily stood from his chair. "Anything! You have my word that you will find this store in perfect condition every day. I'll stay as late as you like, I work hard, really I do, and I won't--"

Max cut him off again with a wave of his hand and a warm smile. "That's all right," he said, chuckling. "I trust you. Just prove me right, all right? Now, finish your sandwich and tea. I've got a spare stock room in the back of this place. It's not very comfortable, but it is warm." David smiled, almost laughing with surprise. "You start tomorrow. First thing I want you to do is organize all these books. Alphabetical by author, starting on the left side of the store. You do read, correct?" David nodded vigorously. "Excellent. Finish your sandwich, and you can wash up in the back room."

_This boy needs a father_, Maximillion thought to himself as he walked back to the storeroom. _He is lost without guidance, and I need someone to teach._

…

The following evening, Max entered his store just following dusk to find the shelves straightened and nearly full. He glanced at a nearby shelf and saw the spines, neatly arranged by author and title. Propped up by the window was a dusty copy of _The Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe_. He heard shuffling in the back right corner and moved around the stacks to see David. His coat and frayed gloves were gone, and his face and hair were cleaner. He looked tired, but determined to finish. He looked up only when Max cleared his throat, stopped and quickly said, "Oh hullo, I thought I would be finished by now, but you've got a lot of books."

Chuckling, Max replied, "Yes, I've had quite a lot of time to collect. You are welcome to read these when you are not working, of course." He ran a finger across the spine of a rather worn leather cover: _Dracula_. David saw this and without thinking, blurted out "What's that one about?"

"This?" Max pulls it out and flips to the middle pages. "This is one of my favorites. Suspense, horror, and just a hint of fear that only comes from the unknown." With one large hand he snaps he book shut and offers it to David.

"Thanks, but I've still got to finish," he replies. "I will look at it later though."

"Fair enough," Max says, and walks back toward the door where he props _Dracula_ on the window sill, neatly complimenting the burgundy cover of the _Poetry_ book sitting close by.


	3. To Your Future

The night before the store was to open, Max walked in at his usual just-after-dark time. This time he carried what appeared to be a bottle of celebratory wine.

David had been working tirelessly all day to clean the storefront, put finishing touches on the sign, and set up the striped awning. _Millions Books_, the sign read in a freshly painted, dazzling white. Other small adverts littered the front window, including a "Buy Sell Trade" sign, and "Rare Books!" posted near the door.

"Fantastic!" Max announced, looking thoroughly pleased about how quickly this shamble of a store had become a pristine used bookstore. He sat down in one of the plump reading chairs and sat the bottle on the table. "Have a seat, David. You look like you could use a break."

"Thank you, sir. I wanted to finish the front today." He took a seat opposite Max and looked at the bottle. Suddenly feeling a bit awkward in the still silence, he glanced up and noticed Max staring directly at him. _Shit_, he thought. _I finished the work, now he's finished with me. Out on the streets again, David._

"David," Max said. David snapped out of his morose thoughts and focused on a spot on the table. "I wanted to discuss your future." _Or lack thereof?_ _Shit_. "You've done a magnificent job on my store, and you've gained my trust thus far. As you know, I hired two others that will be starting tomorrow when the store opens." At this point he pulled a sheet of paper from his coat pocket and began unfolding it. "These are the guidelines for working the daytime hours. They cover the basics for running the store while I am away. I want you…" _To what? Hand this to the others on my way out the door?_ David thought to himself. His mouth had a bitter taste as he continued to stare at the spot on the table. "...To go over this with the others tomorrow. I want you to lead a brief meeting before the store opens to make sure everyone is on the same page, and that the first day runs as smoothly as possible."

David's heart leapt. He wasn't homeless after all. His meager storeroom accommodations were still his, and his small - but steady - pay was secure. Again he found himself looking directly into Max's eyes, only to be met with a look of fatherly respect and compassion. However rare a look this was to David, it was a look that any boy would recognize.

"Now, how about a toast?" Max suggested, pointing to the wine bottle.

"Yes sir!" David replied, simultaneously jumping from the chair and running to the back for a couple of glasses. He returned quickly and Max poured them each a glass.

"To Millions Books?" David suggested.

"To the future," replied Max, and downed a gulp of the thick red wine. David followed suit, and found a most unique flavor sliding down his tongue. He had to shut his eyes to fully enjoy what seemed to be liquid velvet, a bittersweet aroma followed the taste as he inhaled slightly the scent rising from his glass. He found himself completely absorbed by his own senses, so much so that his head began to spin slowly.

Opening his eyes, he noticed the room spinning to match his head. Max's face was clear compared to his surroundings, and his voice was nearly a whisper in David's head.

"David," he seemed to say, though his lips did not move. Max tipped his glass up again. "To _your_ future."

David took another intoxicating drink from his own glass. He had been drunk before, but this was different. This was _bliss_. He watched dazedly as Max corked the ornate bottle and carried it with him to the back room. _What's going on?_ David thought to himself, though he did not entirely care to know the answer. Max's toast to the future kept breezing through his mind in whispers, and he found himself giving in entirely to the fuzz that quickly filled his vision.

Careful not to tip anything over, including himself, he got up and stumbled toward the storeroom. He waved a drunken 'goodnight' to Max through the adjacent door before closing his own door behind him and falling into a heap under his clothes. The following morning came far too quickly, and David was fortunate enough to escape the immediate pain of sunlight on his blurred eyes by the fact that the storeroom was windowless.


	4. Midnight Hunger

_Darkness. The store lay in total darkness, and as David rolled over on the floor he could see nothing of his surroundings. His stomach was burning, aching for something he could not identify. The pain was overpowering, but where could he go? What could he do? A sliver of light appeared under the door of the storeroom._

_Kicking aside his coat he began to crawl toward the flickering light, too consumed by the empty, starving feeling that clutched at his gut like a clawed hand. The door swung open on its own, and he was able to use the doorframe to hoist himself to his feet. The flickering light, he saw, was coming from the back room where Max took inventory. Bracing himself on the wall, he slowly made for the door. _I need to get to Max_, he thought to himself. _He can help me

_The light flickered again, and he saw shadows move across the wall. _It must be Max; no one else would be here this late._ Staggering into the doorway, the sight that met him took all thought of hunger pain away from his mind._

_Blood pooled everywhere as it poured from a mangled corpse on the ground. The man's face was gone, and his left arm had been twisted around unnaturally. Two gashes in his wrist and two more on the throat spilled most of the gore that David could see. To the left, David saw the desk chair, turned to face the door with another man sitting in it. No, he was tied to it, unconscious and bleeding from his temple._

_Standing just to the side of the desk was Max. He was looking at the live hostage calmly, though his face was contorted sharply. He was nearly unrecognizable. The pain returned in full to David's already shaking body, and his vision blurred as he once again doubled over. He felt his knee hit the ground and caught himself with a hand, the other still clutching his stomach. _Sticky,_ he thought. _The floor is sticky._ He wrenched his hand off to see it covered in cold, dead blood._

_"Max, what's going on?" He heard himself say. His mouth was filled with the same coppery sweet taste of the wine he drank that night and he found himself looking at the unconscious man in the chair. The horror was gone though, and curiosity began to fill his mind as his eyes focused on the blood oozing from the man's hairline._

_"Your future, David," Max replied, "Is right here. This man holds life. Eternal life and youth. And you can take it from him." He ran a clawed finger along the man's cheek, just enough to bring him out of consciousness. Dazed, the man lolled his head forward and looked at the floor through half-open eyes to see his dead companion on the floor. He had no time for a scream to escape his mouth before Max placed a large, twisted hand over his face to stifle any noise. "This is your future."_

_David's eyes began to burn, and his vision – already blurred severely by the convulsive pain – tinted red. He shut them and cringed, trying to clear his head of the flood of feelings and confusion. The taste of last night's wine still lingered in his mouth. _I'm dreaming_, he thought, and tried to reassure himself. _This is a dream, when I open my eyes this will all be gone. The blood, the bodies, everything will be gone.

_He peeked one glance, but saw only red as he looked at the floor. "No!" he gasped. "This is madness!" He looked to Max for reassurance, but was only met with that contorted face, twisting into a sharp smile. "NO!" he cried again and heaved himself away from the doorframe. By now the blood was spilling into the hallway under his feet and he slipped on the wet surface. BAM!_

David hit his head hard against the shelves as he woke with a start. He had thrashed himself two feet across the room and rolled into the side of the shelves. He looked up to see the books and folders wobble threateningly, but not fall. Rubbing his head where he hit it, he sat up and kicked his coat away. Then he remembered.

He pulled his hand away from his face and looked at it, expecting to see the dried blood from the night before. Nothing. His shoes were clean, and he was covered in cold sweat rather than blood. His breathing was heavy, and his head was starting to pound from its encounter with the shelves. As his vision cleared, he saw he was back in the storeroom and there was a sliver of clear, natural daylight coming in under the door.


	5. Opening Day

-Author's Note: I don't mean to interrupt my own story, but I feel another disclaimer is in order. Also, I'd love it if you guys reviewed my story! Thanks to the people that already have, your comments were really encouraging!

-Disclaimer: All characters in this are © their respective creators. I don't own Lost Boys in any form other than DVD. Some inspiration taken from the game Vampire: The Masquerade.

David sat in his makeshift bed on the floor and waited for his head to clear and his skin to dry. Every time he closed his eyes, however, flashes of the nightmare danced across his eyelids in that same, eerie, reddish tint. Shaking his head to rid himself of the repeated images of blood and gore, he stood himself up and headed to the washroom.

He turned the faucet to cold and let it run over his hands for a moment, then briskly splashed some onto his face. "Wake up," he muttered to himself, then grabbed the towel to dry off. Neglecting the mirror in front of him, he ran his fingers through the bed head-tangle of hair and smoothed it back into the usual white-blonde ponytail.

David walked toward the counter with the till, and then remembered the paper that Max had given him the evening before. As he walked up to the table and chairs, the morning sunrays flashed through the window and hit his eyes. "God," he mumbled. "I only had one glass." Living alone on the streets, David had become accustomed to the occasional words to himself when no one else was around. The bottle and glasses were gone, but the paper lay where he had left it. He had to squint to see through the feeble sunlight just to read the few words on the paper. He felt as if he had not slept at all the night before.

As he tried to avoid a migraine by shading his eyes, there was a quiet rapping on the window. He looked up through his fingers to see a short, bespectacled girl waving at him. He made his way over to the door and unlocked it. "Are you the new help?" he asked, and only too late realized that his voice had not yet apparently woken up to join him.

He cleared his throat and coughed a little. The girl looked a bit uneasy at such a gruff greeting, but she squeaked out a "yes" and toed a pebble on the ground. He gestured her in right as another lad walked up to the door. He looked to be older than David, but not by more than three years. The girl appeared to be about sixteen. They both made their way inside and David once again closed the door.

"Right," he started. "Let's begin with introductions. My name is David. I have been working with Maximillion for a few weeks now, preparing the store. I will mostly be-" he grimaced as the sunlight outside became stronger. "-err… I will be working with stocking the shelves and working toward the back by the register." He pointed to the girl, and she turned the slightest shade of pink at being addressed.

"Um, Sylvia," she said to the floor. "I just moved here with my parents. They said I needed to work."

"Alright, Sylvia, you will work near the front. Greet people as they come in, and tidy up when no one is here." David was still squinting horribly, and was certain that his eyes were bloodshot. With such a hangover, they must be as red as the book he'd been reading. He searched over the sheet in his hand, and looked at the other newcomer.

Arms folded, the lad saw that attention was now drawn to him and immediately began to look uncomfortable. His arms fell to his sides stiffly and he shifted his weight from side to side. David arched an eyebrow and the lad responded with a low, hesitant "Jonathan Hardy," followed by thrusting out his large hand. David took it and the two exchanged a subtle head nod and a firm handshake. "Used to work at the hotel as a busboy. Been in and out of jobs since."

"Hopefully you'll stay on here for a little longer, Jonathan," David replied. "You will be helping customers find what they like. I will be in the back for most of the day. If someone wants to buy a book or two, just call me. I trust both of you to stay away from the cash drawer, so please do not let me down."

Jonathan and Sylvia looked at each other apprehensively, and then began to look around the store. David looked once more at the sheet in his hand to make sure he covered everything before saying to both, "We open soon. Any questions?"

"Y-yes," Sylvia stammered, raising her hand. She pulled it back quickly when David squinted in her direction. "Where is Maximillion? Shouldn't he be here when his store opens for the first time?"

David paused to consider an answer, and finally replied, "He's a night owl. He was here all last night to make sure everything went smoothly this morning." What that he raised the paper as a sign of Max's work, then started toward the back of the store. He crumpled the sheet into a ball as he went and let it fall into the wastebasket behind the counter.

"Get to work," he said over his shoulder. "I'll unlock the door in ten minutes." He disappeared into the storeroom and let out a yawn that he had been stifling since he woke up.

Sylvia and Jonathan looked at each other again and he extended his hand. She took the offer and he gently grasped her fingers, pecked a kiss on her knuckle, and disappeared into the stacks. She walked to the table and began to straighten the chairs when she noticed a mark on the table. A reddish, dried liquid. _Wine_, she thought. _David and Maximillion were working hard, indeed._

David had ten minutes to feel well enough to function before the store opened. The anxiety of thinking about his job and warm home was not helping the situation. He glanced at the rumpled coat lying on the floor in the corner. Sleep was reaching out to him with ethereal arms. The coat looked so warm and cozy; even the floor looked soft.

Five minutes to go. _How many customers could we have today?_ he thought. Dracula lay on the lowest shelf near his coat. He had read half the book with slight difficulty so far, but now the red cover shone with some strange sense of familiarity.

Mustering that extra ounce of strength that hides in the gut, he stood up and made his way stiffly to the front door. Squeezing his eyes nearly shut as they began to water – the sun was up now and greeting the waves across the pier with great vigor – he flipped off the lock, opened and propped the door, and quickly shielded his eyes again. _Fresh ocean air…_ he thought. _That should clear my mind_. But this time he found the smell to be tainted. This time, the ocean air smelled like death.

David turned in disgust to be greeted with the sight of Sylvia cleaning the wine ring off the table. "Thanks," he said. She looked up at him. "What is this?" she asked. "It seems too thick for wine." She scrubbed the tabletop a little harder, trying to soften the liquid.

"It was wine," he said after a moment's pause. Later he realized that it might have sounded too defensive, like he was hiding something. At the time, though, all he could think about was the warm coat that awaited him, and how he really could fall asleep standing up at that very spot. If he had to hang by his feet from the ceiling, he would still be tired enough to sleep in comfort.

He made his way back to the dark, silent storeroom before Sylvia could ask another question. Shutting the door behind him, he let out a long, deep sigh and crumpled on top of his coat, immediately falling into a deep, black sleep.


	6. Sunny Day, Hungry Night

Everything was tinted red again. A dense fog surrounded David. He wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours, searching for something. That hungry pang had returned to his gut, and he let the feeling lead him blindly through the red clouds. He heard footsteps coming from behind him. He could not hear his own footsteps, but these were becoming more and more clear. The fog swirled into a pitch black nothing, leaving him with nothing but the ever-pounding footsteps behind him, knocking against the non-existent ground.

_Pounding… knocking…_

Knocking…

There was a strong surge of pounding on the door to the storeroom, and David woke with a start. "Are you in there? The door's locked!" Sylvia's voice called bluntly through the wood door. "We've got customers! We could use you on the register."

David sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hangover had not subsided. Climbing to his feet, he made his way to the door and tried his best to look awake. "I'm on my way," he replied through the door, though it took him another moment to reach it as he tried to steady himself on the shelves. _It must be at least four o'clock by now,_ he thought.

Opening the door was like finding the sun sitting calmly in the hallway. David's vision was so brilliantly flooded with daylight that he hissed in pain as he shielded his burning eyes. A thin shadow appeared in the white blur he was trying to focus, and Sylvia's voice hit his ears. "Sir? We need you at the till. We've finally got some customers." David's vision cleared enough to see Sylvia's sheepish face before it disappeared through the doorway to the front of the store.

David did his best to pull himself together, to look at least presentable to the people in the store. Standing up straighter, he smoothed back his loose strands of hair and straightened the front of his shirt. With a deep breath and a few steps forward, he reached the doorway to the store and discovered that Sylvia was not entirely specific about how many was included in the phrase "some customers."

The bookstore was fairly well packed. There were four women chatting by the counter, each holding a few novels in her arms. Jonathan was talking to a gaunt man in glasses near the end of one of the far stacks. Sylvia had an armload of books and she was dodging between shelves, handing different genres off to various people. With a quick scan of the store David guessed that there were easily fifteen people in the store, and two more walking in. Sunlight danced off the glass pane on the door as David looked at precisely the wrong time. He winced and turned his burning eyes back to the counter. Seeing the four women now gazing intently – almost questioningly – on him, he quickly turned the wince into an awkward smile. An action he later decided wasn't an entirely bright idea, as the women's expressions twitched nervously.

Nearly simultaneously, all five find their natural smiles and David finds the nerve to take his place at the till. He made small talk with each of the women as they paid for their books, and waved them out the door. David was ready to return to his quiet, dark room in the back when he found a man waiting at the till, with a book in hand.

Then another man… and another… three more…

"Oh God," David muttered to himself in a ten-second spot between customers. "I'm in Hell."

-

The day went by agonizingly slowly, and only seemed to get worse as evening approached and the sun, in all its westward glory, shown its brilliant face directly into the storefront windows. At precisely seven o'clock, David tossed his key to Jonathan and told him to lock the front door. Jonathan did so, and placed the 'CLOSED' sign in the window near the door. David sighed and slumped down behind the counter. Only an hour left till dark.

Sylvia leaned over the counter to see David heaped against the wall, rubbing his eyes. "Err, is there anything you want us to do before we leave, sir?"

David slowly looked up at her. She thought she saw a glint of red in that stare and startled. He continued to stare at her, but the look was only one of exhaustion and irritation. "Right," she said. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." The sounds of Jonathan unlocking the door and placing the key on the front table was shortly followed by the two workers walking outside, and finally a faint click of the door closing once again.

David hardly moved for the next hour, slipping in and out of consciousness as he waited for darkness to fall. His lack of sleep must have been catching up to him; he felt the ephemeral strength of a second wind coming on when the sky started to fade into its cool blue. He took this as a sign to clean up the store before Max came. He peered over the counter to glance through the stacks. The place wasn't a complete mess, but there was work to do. He assessed the workload and walked to the front to retrieve his key before committing to the task ahead.

-

Max awoke and fell gracefully to the carpeted floor below. Stretching, he let out a let out a large, sharp yawn and headed to the stairs. Perusing the paper followed a quick shower and a trip to the walk in closet. Owning a business, he needed to know how the Herd's economy was fairing for once. Nothing too bad, but something told him that the store would have its hard times sooner or later. _Probably in the next 25 years or so_, he figured. The sound of the beach faintly tickled his ears. The beachfront property he inherited was really quite posh, though it needed help. His sire did not exactly an eye for style. _Easily remedied, once I've got the resources to do something about it._

He checked his pocket watch and set out for the store. It was quite the walking distance, for a mortal. He reached the front gate of his property and launched himself upward, soaring above the ocean as its waves lapped the shores.

He landed about a block from the store and walked the remainder of the distance. There were few people still out after the street lamps had been lit. Mostly it was other storeowners, locking up their shops and heading home. Two scraggly men stepped out of a particular shadowy alley that lay just between Max and the bookstore. Over confident, each casually brandishing a small knife, and looking directly at Max. The one on the left looked him up and down quickly and croaked out "Nice suit."

"Thank you sir," Max replied with a smile. He glanced at the dark alley, listening for more men. _Just the two? Surely you jest_. He rolled his eyes upward as he thought this.

"He's bein' smart with you," the man on the right said to his accomplice. "I say we find out wut he's got in all the pockets in that suit."

"Sir, I do not think you possess the right to do so without my consent, nor the ability." Max was now surveying the area around them for bystanders and innocents. No one for blocks.

The two men started walking toward him, each spreading out to a side. Max looked at the man to his left and flashed a toothy grin. Just enough to make the man double take and stutter in his step, and give Max an edge. He flicked his right wrist at the other man and he was suddenly surrounded by a wisp of thick, black shadows that seemed to slither out of the alleyway. As the shadows surrounded the man, Max rushed at the first. His face contorted and his hands sprouted large talon-like nails. Fangs bared, he slashed at the man before he could raise his knife in a pitiful attempt at defense. Three red lines appeared on the man's face, lacerating his left eye and sending a rain of blood to the ground. The man had an instant to scream before his mouth was smothered by Max's large hand. He felt his feet leave the ground as was lifted by the face into the air.

The second man was struggling to keep himself dry as the urge to piss himself became overwhelming. He yelled, but the sound was muffled. Everywhere he turned was in total darkness. The atmosphere seemed too thick around him, making it difficult to move. Panic swept over his mind, sweat beading on his brow and his eyes growing wide as he started gasping for air. Then it was gone. The shadows disappeared, receding back into the alleyway. He was alone. His cohort had disappeared, as well as the man they had assumed would be their victim. It was still deathly silent though. The sound of the waves had returned, the lights from the lampposts, but above all was his own ragged breath.

And then a light thud came from behind him. He turned quickly to see something on the ground, half covered in the darkness seeping from the alley. He recognized a leg, in the brown trousers of his companion. He crept closer and bent down, nudging the lifeless body on the shoulder. Nothing; no movement, no breath. His fingers were wet. He pulled his hand back into the lamplight and found it painted red. His breathing became panicked again and he pushed the body over onto its back. He could hardly distinguish the face. Four large slashes took out the majority of the flesh, and there were what looked like… _puncture marks_ on the side of his bald head.

The sound of wings overhead pulled his eyes away from the grotesque scene. Wings? _Something_ above him was moving. Somehow, instinctively, he knew it sounded like _wings_. His eyes kept searching the dark sky between the two buildings, but nothing appeared. The sound swept behind him and he spun, still squatting, and lost his balance. Landing hard on his side he let out a yelp and dropped his knife. Another sound above forced him to look up, just in time to see the horrid face of his predator bearing down upon him from above. His screams were muffled as Max sank his sharp fangs into the man's neck and pinned him down, his large hands on the man's face and chest. Darkness once again fell over the man.


	7. First Embrace

Max walked into his store to find David sweeping the front area, looking quite exhausted. "Busy day?" he asked lightheartedly. David stopped his chore to look through weary eyes back at his employer.

"We had a rush this afternoon that lasted until closing time. And I can't seem to shake this exhaustion." David caught himself. He _never _revealed weakness to anyone. If he learned anything in the orphanage it was that the strong who survived, who did not get picked on incessantly. Why did he tell Max about this? Looking at Max he had another thought: why did Max not look surprised?

"I've got something to show you," he said, and suddenly gave an air of utmost seriousness. His face was calm, and he took his spectacles off to clean them with a white handkerchief. David watched, and noticed a small red speck on the cloth. "You've seen it before. But you need to understand it. You need to know. Follow me."

David stared as Max turned and walked out the door. _What on Earth?_ He leaned the broom against a nearby shelf and followed into the cool night air. He was fully awake; his senses seemed to peak the moment he stepped into the clear, dark night, and he saw Max's shadow sliding down the sidewalk, and he disappeared into a nearby alley. David jogged to catch up and stopped before he turned the corner. He smelled something, and recognized it from a previous night. His stomach turned in hunger when he realized he hadn't eaten all day, and that bittersweet smell was only making the sensation stronger. "David," he heard Max say from the alley. "You need to know."

The hunger was now tugging at his heart, and he felt a small surge of anger come from nowhere. "Know what?" he said with a tinge of irritation as he rounded the corner. His feet carried him before his mind could catch up, and realization struck him like the brick wall he grasped as he saw the sight before him.

Max stood over two bodies in the dark alley. One was horribly mutilated, the other barely holding onto his life. "What is this!" David yelled as he saw the mess. His eyes darted from the two bodies, to Max, and back to the meal---

_Meal? What am I thinking?_ David was breathing hard. His mind was swimming as his heart kept attempting to escape through his throat, and what seemed like the entire Olympic gymnastics team performed stunts in his stomach. He didn't know whether to scream, or run, or stay put, or attack Max, or drink the blood---

"NOOO!" he tried to yell out, but he found Max's hand over his mouth before he realized he'd moved.

"You need to know," Max said in the calm voice again. "You are changed. You are like me now. You will never grow old, but you must live off the lives of others." David's wide eyes focused on Max's face as someone did a triple-back flip-somersault-half-twist flawlessly just to the left of his pancreas. "These two men tried to mug me as I walked to the store this evening," he explained. "They are evil men. We – _you_ and I – are not evil. We are simply different. We are the strong, and we survive. We never die. But to keep this life, this immortal life, you must kill." With his free hand he gestured to the man on the ground. He was just conscious enough to stare at them blearily. David guessed he could not even comprehend what Max was saying. But the more David looked at him, the worse his body began to pull him in every direction.

A small voice came in the back of his mind. _You'll never die._ "David," Max said and removed his hand from David's mouth. "Embrace your new life."

"No…" David said quietly, his voice wavering. "I can't. I will not kill."

"Take his life," Max replied, his voice sharper.

"I won't," David said again, his voice stronger though a tear fell from his eye.

"You must kill him or you will die. TAKE HIS LIFE." Max seemed to loom over David now, and the space around him filled with shadows. David felt his heart give an angry lurch at this sudden threat.

"I WON'T!" he yelled back, and found himself lying on the ground, a cut below his cheek. Max had just struck him and sliced open his face. "TAKE HIS LIFE," he repeated again.

"NO!" David screamed, though the anger he felt in his chest was rising quickly to his head, becoming an uncontrolled rage. Max kicked him in the side, his face now fierce. This tipped David over the edge and he leapt up, charging at Max. Max dodged to the side, and shoved David toward the body lying on the ground behind them. The force of the push was enough to send David reeling, and he landed face-first into the dead man's pool of blood. His senses were flooded with the feeling of it, the smell and the taste engulfed his mind as some made its way into his mouth. As he pushed himself up and opened his eyes, the first thing to greet him was the conscious man lying on the ground before him.

Rage surged through his body, amplified by the sensation of the blood now covering the right side of his face. He had no other thought in his mind than to destroy. He met the blank stare of his first victim with red eyes and a toothy, hungry grin, and lunged.


	8. Panic Run

Maximillion stood back and watched as his new childe, David, tore apart the body of his victim in an uncontrollable frenzy. The man had been dead now for about ten minutes, but David continued to disembowel the corpse until he could discover how to control the Beast that had conquered his mind and soul.

Another five minutes passed, and he waited patiently in the shadows. David's rabid behavior began to slow, until he sat on his knees, staring at what he had just done and breathing hard enough to have run a marathon at top speed. He looked up at Max, blood streaked across his face. "What just happened?" he asked and looked around the alleyway. "Wha—what did I do?"

"You embraced a new life," Max replied. The calm had returned to his voice. David looked like a lost child who took a wrong turn and realized his parents had disappeared around another corner. Still breathing heavily he staggered to his feet and looked at the gore that plastered his clothes. He was not frightened, just confused. Confused at the fact that his hunger had disappeared when he had not eaten real food in nearly three days. Confused because he felt like he had just woken up from a very restful sleep. Confused at the feeling of someone else's blood running through his veins, powering his body and invigorating his senses. But mostly he felt confused at what had just overcome his mind, then receded back once its thirst for blood was satiated.

He looked once more at Max's fatherly, smiling visage and ran in the opposite direction. Max let him go. _He'll come back when the sun rises_, he thought. _I did_. He walked over to the corpses on the ground – or what was left of them – and knelt next to the nearest one. Placing a hand on the man's forehead, he closed his eyes and felt the body turn to ash under his palm. Doing the same to the second man, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the remaining blood off his right hand and made his way back toward the bookstore.

--

David ran aimlessly toward the pier, without thinking, looking back, or breathing. In his panic he failed to realize that he was never running short of breath or losing energy. No one was out on the streets. Shops were closed up, amusements shut down, and the last few drunkards were making their way home. He stopped to gain his bearings and remembered how me must look. "Damn it," he breathed and looked down again at his clothes.

He scanned the area and noticed a beachfront entrance. A set of stairs had been rebuilt since the earthquake that went straight onto the sand from the boardwalk.

"HEY!" A voice came out of the dark behind him. Turning, he saw a uniformed man holding a baton. "You lost, boy? It's a bit late for people to be wanderin' the pier."

David continued to stand there, becoming more and more aware of the red mess all over his face. "Did you hear me, boy?" The man called. David took a step back, not wanting the officer to see him clearly. "Where you goin'?" David turned toward the stairs and began to run.

"HEY!" The man followed David as he barreled down the stairs and streamed toward the breaking waves. The officer was a bit on the portly side, but he thought he was a good enough runner. _Good enough to catch this hooligan_, he thought. _He looks like he's been through an ordeal already_. He pelted after David, slipping a bit in the loose sand but nevertheless keeping pace.

David kept running, but he was soon running out of space before he reached the waves. He reached the wave-wet sand and veered left, narrowly escaping an outstretched hand of the man chasing him. He let out a grunt as he twisted out of reach and kept sprinting along the coast. The man continued the pursuit for a good two minutes before he stumbled to the sand, exhausted from running. David kept running even though he heard the officer collapse behind him. He wasn't tired. He wasn't even short of breath. He wasn't _breathing_.

He stopped as this discovery finally struck him. _I'm not breathing… Impossible_, he thought. He had to be sure. He veered back to the right and dove head first into a large wave. The water was freezing, but he did not care. Swimming out a good fifty yards, he took a breath and pushed himself under the water. He could not see anything; it was nearly pitch black under the water. Feeling his feet hit solid ground, he made his way farther from the shore. A wave hit him and his hair swirled around his face. Only now did he notice that his blonde locks were also stained with red, but it was slowly disappearing in the current of the seawater.

He sat on the ground, waiting to feel the pang of suffocation in his lungs. He almost welcomed it as an indication that this entire day had been a horrible dream. He waited for another ten minutes. Or what seemed like ten minutes. The watch Max had given him was safely stowed in his coat back at the bookstore. Finally he pushed himself off and drifted back to the surface. Smoothly he broke the top of the water, and resisted the instinct of taking a breath of air.

He swam back to shore, but did not want to return to the bookstore. The idea of it frightened him in a way. Everything strange that had happened to him in the last month took place in or around that building. He'd had his share of nightmares for the time being. Standing up, he shook the excess water out of his hair and clothes and started walking with the ocean to his right – the same direction he took when the officer chased him.


	9. The Cliff

A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! Like any other fanfic writer, I crave them more than a package of See's Nuts & Chews One thing: I do plan on getting to the Embraces of the rest of the Boys and introduce the Emersons, but it will take a while. I wanted to start this at the very beginning, and lay out the whole story. I might also put in some of Max's history. Anyhoo, glad you all like the story so much, and without further delay, here's chapter 9!

--

As he walked along the beach, David thought over the night's events. Or rather, he tried to collect his thoughts. They were still spinning dizzily around his brain, never quite settling on which lobe to call home. He walked for about an hour, occasionally moving further inland, and eventually finding a closed road. He followed this; letting his feet guide him as his mind strayed. The same image kept flashing in his mind: the open, scared eyes of his first kill. He shook it out of his vision every time and kept walking.

His thoughts were so preoccupied that he lost track of time and direction altogether. He was wandering aimlessly, and soon developed a sort of blurred tunnel vision. His surroundings did not matter anymore, so he no longer saw them. He didn't notice, and didn't care.

Around 4am his mind was growing tired, and his senses began to come back into play. He heard distant waves crashing, and the smell of the ocean became stronger again. Wind swept across his face and through his dry, sandy hair and the ground beneath his feet became looser, and he felt himself stumble. He looked down to catch himself, and realized only too late that there was no more ground to place his foot on.

All previous thoughts immediately left his head, shoved out by the blind panic that returned with new cause: he was falling.

He let out a yell as he saw the sharp rocks below coming closer and closer at an alarming rate. Waves were crashing maliciously up against them, and a bare cliff face was behind him. There was no hope. He closed his eyes and the rocks came to greet him.

BAM! A wave hit the rock directly underneath him and sprayed water on his face and clothes. The smell of seawater was strong and thick now, and the thundering waves crashed all around him.

David dared to crack open an eye and was met by a crashing wave of utter bewilderment. The jagged rock rested about two feet below him, and he was hanging upside down. He looked up toward his feet, but nothing was holding him up. Another wave hit the rock, loaded with salty water and a few gallons of confusion. David was drenched by it and he recoiled at the shock of it hitting the back of his neck. As he pulled back, he noticed he floated up another few feet. The original panic of falling completely cleared his mind, so it was easier now to process what was going on. He looked up again and focused on what he wanted, and instantly he flipped upright.

"Ha HA!" he burst out and zoomed upward. A strong wind circled around him, and he spun in place along with it, and then dove back toward the crashing waves. Finding a flat spot at the base of the cliff, he made his way over and dropped onto the ground. A smile covered his face, as well as some wet tangles of blonde hair. He needed to dry off; his clothes were soaked through again. But he wasn't cold. The wet clothes clinging to his skin weren't bothering him. He wasn't cold. He just fell off a cliff and _flew_ and his heart wasn't beating fast at all. His mind was perfectly clear, and he didn't feel the rush of adrenaline that he normally would have after such an unexpected event.

The smile fell from his face. "What am I?" he said to himself. "Oh God, what _am_ I!" His voice echoed the outburst as it hit a distant, unseen wall. He looked up and squinted into the darkness of the cliff side, and noticed a small hole. It was about the size for two people to fit through, while ducking down. He went in, wanting to get away from the thunderous waves. The noise was near deafening.

The moment he was inside, the noise was practically silenced. Water hitting rock was still quite audible, but only the crashes were most heard. The cave walls blocked the overall noise. Inside was completely dark. He stumbled over a loose stone before stopping to allow his eyes to adjust. He did not wait long before he could clearly see the outlines of everything in the large cavern. It was a strange blend between natural rock walls and man-made structure.

"It's the hotel," he said aloud, and his voice echoed gently though the room. This must have been the lobby. David had never seen the building in its pre-earthquake glory. What he saw now must be the remainder of whatever this place used to be. A broken chandelier sat in the middle of the cavern. It must be six feet in diameter. A thick cloud of dust had settled over it, partly from the loose particles of the rock that had swallowed the building whole, and partly from the few months of sitting abandoned and unkempt.

There was rubble everywhere. Pieces of walls were scattered on the ground, what used to be the bellman's desk was now lying in five large pieces, floor tiles, and heaped in a corner was a destroyed king-sized mattress. A maid's cart was sitting tipped upside down near the chandelier. As David looked around the large cavern he discovered that most everything that was not damaged, or was at least repairable, must have been rescued for future use.

He saw another opening and climbed up to look through. It looked like a small tunnel lined with pipes and more rubble. Pushing the larger, loose pieces out of the way he crawled through. About every 5 feet he paused, making sure the ground (and more importantly, the ceiling) was stable enough for him to continue without a cave-in. The tunnel opened up to another small chamber. Small in diameter, but a very high ceiling. He looked up and saw more pipes sticking through the walls. They were difficult to see, it seemed that there was little to no natural light coming into this room. David was surprised that he could see them at all. He couldn't really explain it.

David continued to explore the cave for another couple of hours, until he came back into the main cavern and saw a few rays seeping in through the small entrance. He was exhausted. He headed back to the first small room that he had found. It seemed to have the most floor space for sleeping, and he could curl up against the wall easily. He had removed his shirt and boots since coming into the cavern, and laid the shirt over the chandelier to dry. His boots lay nearby, abandoned until the water would drain out, while his socks lay next to his shirt.

He plopped down into the dark chamber and sat down on the dry, rocky ground. Very quickly he began to drift off to sleep. All of the night's experiences swam lazily around his eyes. Before his mind went completely blank, he felt himself slipping away. His feet began to tingle first; then he could not even feel the ground underneath him, and his mind got the feeling that only seems achievable when all the blood rushes to your head. As dawn fully broke over the eastern horizon and bathed the quiet city in bright, glistening light, David slumbered in his cave.


	10. Awakening to a new Life

A/N: I return! 1000 apologies for the long absence. My muse left me when finals rolled around last quarter, and school was working me into a vegetative state. Broccoli, to be specific. But here I am, and here's a new chapter for you all. Hopefully the next gap between chapters won't be quite so long. Enjoy!

And because it's been a while, Disclaimer time: I don't own The Lost Boys, nor do I own any of the characters or actors associated with it. I do not own the system of game play created by White Wolf, though I do thoroughly enjoy it. So far I've only invented two characters that I can call my own, but neither of them are based on anyone I know. So for those of you against Mary-Sue fics, this isn't one. Max just needed some help running the store.

David blearily opened an eye. He hadn't slept so well since that pair of foster parents bought him a down comforter about eight years ago. That was such a perfect setup. His mind swam in the happy thoughts of a loving family as a waft of hot chocolate drifted by in his olfactory memories. Yeah, perfect. Until he caught Mr. Anderson beating the living shit out of Mrs. Anderson. When he returned to the orphanage he asked the housemother why she would send him to such a home.

He opened his eyes a bit wider and the sound of surprise escaped his throat. He was hanging upside down, about 15 feet off the ground. Before he could react, or even think really, he was landing on his back on the hard dirt floor. The pain of the impact shot up his left side, but quickly dissipated. He looked back up at the ceiling and saw the pipes sticking out of the walls. "What the…" he mumbled and looked back down to where he was now sitting. In the darkness of the cave he could still see quite clearly, and saw something move slightly by his feet. He drew them closer and noticed that it was actually feet that were moving. Morphing… He watched with wide eyes as his feet changed from a strange, clawed form back into bare human feet, with slightly longer nails. His fingernails were longer, too. And sharper. He looked around and found his shoes, which he never remembered taking off.

As he put his shoes back on, he wondered if Max had planned this from the beginning. He obviously knew what was going on. He knew what he was doing when he fed David the wine. _That strange wine… Was that wine? It tasted like- Oh God._ David's mind made the connection like someone had just toggled a knife switch into place. _It tasted like the man I killed last night. Like his blood. I drank Max's blood. I **killed** someone._

_I couldn't help it_, he thought. _I couldn't stop myself. Why couldn't I stop myself?_ He needed to know what was going on. He needed to talk to Max. He clambered up through the small tunnel into the main chamber of the cavern. The waves were crashing against the rock outside. He needed to figure out how to get out of this place. Sure he'd flown before, but it was a complete accident. How do you start flying without falling off a cliff first?

The waves crashed over the rocks again and sprayed David with a dense, cool mist. David didn't want to hit those rocks. They looked very uncomfortable. He looked out on the horizon, seeing the last few rays of pink following the sunset. _Catch the sunset_, he thought, and ran toward the end of the ledge. Just as he reached the edge, his eyes snapped shut and he drew a deep intake of air, expecting to feel the chill of ocean water rather than the wind whip under his feat. He launched himself off the ledge, wheeling his arms forward and throwing back his feet.

"STOP!" He found his thoughts escaping through his voice, and opened his eyes to see the waves crashing underneath him without coming any closer. He let out a laugh of relief and soared upwards, making his way to the top of the cliff. Reaching the edge, he decided to ignore it completely and see just how high he could go. He kept going, and going… and it got colder and harder to breathe. Before long he reached high enough and realized why he left the cage in the first place. "Max," he said, and dove back down toward the lights of Santa Carla. He needed to know everything.

He found the bookstore easily. He was high up enough that he could have landed on the Ferris wheel if he wanted, but he stayed away from the brighter lights. All he needed now was for someone to see him flying like a bat. He might as well make squeaking, flapping noises if that were the case.

Still trying to stay out of sight from passersby, he landed quickly in the alley by the store. He looked down as his feet touched the ground and saw dried blood caked on the pavement. A flash of the previous night passed through his mind, and he looked away quickly. That memory was still too fresh. He walked around the corner and into the front door of the bookstore. Jonathan was organizing the stacks and looked out as David walked in. A look of quiet surprise passed over his face and he quickly disappeared back into the piles of books. David looked down and noticed that dried blood was covering his shirt coat, and a few splotches still stained his hands. He dumbly shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the back of the store.

Max was doing paperwork in the usual back room, and David wasted no time in jumping in, head first. He would later relate the feeling to taking the leap over the ocean. "What the fuck is going on?" He shouted. Perhaps a bit too loud, as he heard Jonathan pause his cleaning out front. Max calmly turned in his chair to look at David, but said nothing. He just stared through his rimmed spectacles and placed his pen on the table. David began to feel nervous, though he couldn't explain why if asked. "What was that last night?" he continued. "What… what did you do to me?"

Max took off his spectacles and pulled a small cloth out of his pocket to clean them. After a long, silent pause, he responded: "You are now what I am. Not as strong, but indeed you are privileged. You can consider yourself my child now."

"Some fucking adoption," Max spat. "I tried that too many times before I learned my lesson. No way will I act as your kid." He was breathing hard. He didn't expect to hear anything like this. What _did_ he expect?

"No, silly boy. Not in that sense. I mean… The term we use is 'embrace.' I have embraced you as one of my own. You drank my blood, and the blood of a victim. That ritual, so to speak, has sealed a bond and given you new life. You will never die, David. I have given you the greatest of gifts. But with that gift comes a curse. You must take the life of others in order to maintain your own life."

"I didn't ask for this!" David exclaimed. His anxiety was quickly becoming anger. "I don't want to kill. I… I-"

"-Will live _forever_," Max finished.

"What good is eternal life if it makes me a KILLER!" David was raging now. He felt his face contort and his vision colored.

Max replaced the spectacles in front of his eyes. "You're going to need to learn how to control that," he said, and pointed to David's face. "You don't want people to know what you are." David was still breathing hard.

"What do you mean?" asked David. He began to calm down, though it was taking a lot of self-control. His face returned to normal, and he was no longer seeing red. "What do you mean?" he repeated.

"Have you ever seen anyone with a face like that? Besides myself of course." David shook his head. Max continued, "That is because we hide in the shadows. We act like normal human beings unless we need to feed. If we were openly ourselves, we would be hunted and killed. And as powerful as we are, no one is a match when outnumbered five hundred to one, our odds are not that fortunate. David, you and I are the only two of our kind in Santa Carla."

David's breathing slowed to normal and his face contorted once more, though he knew that this time it was caused by pure confusion, rather than rage. "When the earthquake hit a few months ago, many of our kind were killed. We must avoid natural sunlight at all costs. If you haven't experienced it already, it is quite deadly. The warmth and light of the sun will burn our skin and turn us into ash." David remembered where he found himself that evening, and felt very fortunate that instincts seemed to have kicked in.

"The earthquake," Max went on, "unearthed many of the daytime homes that otherwise protected our kind from the sun. Or they were cracked open, demolished, and so on. The Prince of the city – he is the one in charge of the vampire population – deemed Santa Carla unsafe for our kind to continue inhabiting it. My sire, the one who embraced me, was one of the fallen. I was lucky enough to be covered by rubble. I wished to stay here, and try to rebuild the population of the city. He thought I was crazy, but he allowed me to stay. The rest, the Prince included, spread to the wind. Some went to Hollywood, some to San Francisco… most of them remained in California. I was dubbed Prince of Santa Carla. And now, here I am. I am restarting the city, and you are my firstborn child."

"So that's it," David said, although he was still highly confused. "You are after power. And I am part of that now?" Max nodded.

"And you have much to learn," he replied. "We will begin your lessons tomorrow."


End file.
